On my way to the door, I heard my grandfather wheeze, “You look just like yo’ momma when she was yo’ age...just as beautiful as the sunrise. Heehee!”
Startled, I stopped to give him my full attention. “Only difference is you selfish like nobody’s business. Yo' momma was the most generous and selfless woman I knew. That’s how the drugs caught up ta' her, you know. She was a people pleaser. So much that she forgot about herself. I don’t know what she saw in my son. Heehee!” He tapped his chair in mirth. “He was like you; when some’in ain’t go his way or life wasn’t rosy, he hit the road runnin'. That' why he left you girls, your brother and yo' momma, you know. He never even looked back. Heehee!” He paused looking off into the distance as he faced the stained wall that boasted pictures of smiling faces from decades ago.
He continued, “Yo' baby sister ended up here because nobody wanted her. Akeem…we all know his story: them streets swallowed him up. Yo' momma runnin' ‘round here after a crack pipe with two dead kidneys from that new disease—heap…hepa...tites or something.”
That’s why she’s on dialysis! My mother has hepatitis. Damn.
“She still down there in them projects even though she 'pose to be in rehab. She was there one day and ran off. And you…well, let’s just say that maybe you had half a mind to leave this ugly life of yours behind ya for greener pastures but you left even the people who did you no harm. You know what dat tells me?” My grandfather now shifted his gaze to meet mine. “Dat right there tells me that you ain’t no better off where you at because you ain’t yet make sense of the trouble inside ya. The pain is all inside ya. Not here wit’ me or yo' grandmother or Chyna…the people who ain’t hurt ya. It’s within you, honey. Until you free ya’self of them troubles you gone’ keep running like that daddy of yours. May even die a lonely death.” He paused for a few seconds.
My breathing hitched and my eyes blinked, fighting back the stinging tears from the blow he’d just dealt. Those last words rang familiar. Some of the loudest I’d last heard from Michelle.
He continued, “I bet you ain’t even married…are ya? And dat’s because you can’t let nobody near ya. Pretty educated girl like ya’self ain’t spoken fo’ ‘cause ya damaged. I’m sure it ain’t because the boys don’t want ya'. You got 'dat college degree so I know you got ya’self a good job. You just ain’t right in here.” He touch his chest referring to the heart.
He ended there, mercifully, because I didn’t know how much more of his analysis of my pathetic existence I could take. I didn’t know whether to be offended or look for an epiphany in the message. But I couldn’t deny the gravity in it.
I made it to the car before breaking down. His words wounded me. His description of my mother brought me back to the woman I knew as Mommy when I was a kid. I then realized that all of the anger and resentment I held for her in my heart as a teen because of the bullshit she took from my father caused me to mentally block out her very existence.
When was the last time I’ve even spoken to her? Has she even tried to reach out to me over the years? I was still in shock. Total disbelief of recent revelations. She has hepatitis? She needs dialysis? Had her addiction progressed that much?
Suddenly, I felt the need to see her. I had to just lay eyes on her. My heart began to take on a new ache as I shivered in pain. This was much different than the emptiness I felt when I thought of Michelle. This was guilt. I felt so many ill-emotions all at once.